


Help.

by Phanseyelash123



Category: MCU, Marvel, Spiderman - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Irondad, based on prosthetic Peter Parker au. I posted originally on Tumblr, check our spideystan_ on insta!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanseyelash123/pseuds/Phanseyelash123
Summary: Based on prosthetic Peter Parker au by Spiderstan_ on insta!





	Help.

Pain. He was scared. So scared. How did he get there? He was... was he stuck? He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. Oh, god. What happened? The fog cleared and he remembered the car journey with Toomes, him threatening him, him knowing he was Spider-Man, leaving the homecoming party to stop the man from robbing Mr. Stark. Then he confronted him- he had walked up to him in his homemade suit and just began talking. Then everything moved so quickly. Toomes’ glider moved so quickly. The building collapsed so, so quickly. His ‘Spidey-sense’ (gracefully named by Ned) rang in his ears, so high pitched in his brain it ached, throbbed, caused a horrid feeling that seemed to control all his limbs but it was too late. 

“Hah— shit—!” Peter screamed, his mind recalling everything all too quickly. His eyes were unfocused, however he saw his reflection in a puddle, and blood was dripping down his face. He frowned. 

“Fuck— help me!” There was only silence. Peter pushed back tears. “He—help!” The more he was growing conscious, the more pain that was shooting through him, the more agonising it became. He let out a mangled scream. “Please! I—I—“ Peter continued to scream and he tried to move. Wait. Peter’s head glanced over and he almost threw up. His arm was missing. Tony would come. Tony would come. Tony would come. “Mr. Stark! Please!” He was in his homemade suit. How was Mr. Stark going to find him... Oh god, he was going to die. 

He tried to move, but he only screamed. 

“Oh— fuck— fuck— help— help me, please!”

He couldn’t move. He was stuck under hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of rubble. His whole head began to grow fuzzy, and the pain began to subside, and he knew that he was going into shock. 

He couldn’t. He moved his legs, and then his whole mouth filled with sick, in which poured from his mouth. His leg was gone. 

Oh god, everything was happening so quickly. Peter screamed. And screamed. And screamed. His throat was roar. His head boomed. He looked over himself as much as he could, and wept. His arm was in distance of his body. How was he still alive?

Holy fuck, he wanted to die. The shock wasn’t covering how horrid the sight of his own limb crushed under rocks, and the smell of his own sick was acid to his nostrils. 

“Help...” his voice was weak, and so was his connection to reality. 

“Help me...”

 

He gasped and awoke. 

What the hell?

He struggled with his eyes, unable to open them. Hmm. Maybe that was a good thing. He felt so tired... maybe he should just go back to sleep. He sighed and smiled at the idea. He felt drowsy. Heavy. Weak. His arm and leg felt weirdly light and tingly, however he decided to ignore it. 

“Peter?”

What?

“Peter, are you awake, baby?”

His eyes shot open. “May?” He asked, crazed. And there she was, her glasses hanging off the edge of her nose, looking so much wearier than usual, deep bags and wrinkles.

“Peter! Oh, my goodness! Baby!” She smiled, and he wrapped her arms tightly around him. He groaned. May pulled back. “I’m sorry! I was just— why didn’t you tell me?” Tons of emotions went through her face- relief, pain, happiness, anger. Wait, why anger?

“You’re Spider-Man?”

“Uhh... um... I am?” Peter asked, smiling awkwardly, brows upturned, and he looked down at himself. He was covered in a white blanket. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry... and now you are.. I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I was worried that you would worry and I’m sorry—“

His aunt just sighed, eyes tearful. “It’s okay. Let’s just... let’s just sit.” He found his hand was in hers and he hummed. There was a very long pause, and Peter closed his eyes. “I feel weird.”

“Oh, Peter...” May sounded hollow. “Well... when Toomes dropped you... you—“

Peter sat up suddenly and gasped, “shit! No. No. No.” Memories flooded through him. The blood. The sick. The sweat. The pain. The pain. And then he was back there. The night. The smell. The pungent scent of vomit. Everything was overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he was hyperventilating and his eyes were brimming with tears and they were trickling down his face and he was sobbing and choking, and oh god, he couldn’t breathe-

“Peter! In and out. One, two, three. Look at me, look at me.” Aunt May squeezed his hand, and it grounded him. 

“Look around. You’re here. You’re with me. You’re safe. Breathe. One, two, three, yeah? Come on, Peter.” She soothes and Peter followed her pattern and slowly but surely his breath slowed. 

He wasn’t back there. He was in a hospital with his aunt. He was there. He was alive. He wasn’t dying. His arm was—

“Holy shit! What the hell?!” It was metal. Metal. Metal arm. Metal arm. Metal arm. 

“What the—“ 

Aunt May touched his shoulder gently, “calm down, Peter.” 

His fingers brushed the well made arm, which was a mixture of dark and light blues, greys and almost blacks where the joints were. He then moved the blanket and gasped upon seeing his leg was the same. Metal. Well made. Slim. 

“Where’s— my arm? Aunt May— where’s my arm? Where’s my leg?” He felt down his leg and whimpered when noticing he could actually feel with his robotic hand. 

“You lost them,” she was crying now, “Tony replaced them.”

“Mr. Stark! Oh, gosh. Did Toomes get the— did he get Mr. Stark’s stuff?”

“No. No. No. He didn’t. He was sent to prison last week on murder and of course stealing from Tony for years.”

“Oh.” Peter’s world tipped sideways. “He... murder? He never seemed like... but... Liz... I...”

“Peter?” Another voice said, making Peter turn. It was Mr. Stark. He looked absolutely wrecked. His usual business attire looked a lot more forced, his tie hanging low and blazer loose, showing off an untucked shirt. 

“Mr. Stark! Are you okay? You look wrecked.” He gasped and looked down, “I—I didn’t mean it to be rude! Sorry.”

“Peter.” Tony took a hesitant step forward, then pulled back... and then walked over, slowly, like a wary animal. 

“Yeah...” 

“Peter... oh my god.” He looked like he was in pain, “why did you go after Toomes? You know how— how reckless that is? You died and that’s on me, pal. That’s on me. I don’t like waking up to Happy calling me about a teenager missing two limbs and had died alone, from blood loss, under rubble. It took them half an hour to find you under the rubble! Don’t you ever do anything like that ever again, Peter! Fuck!”

A stretched silence. 

“I died?” Peter croaked. 

“I—...” Tony trailed off and looked down. “Yeah. I managed to get some doctors to bring you back.”

Aunt May stared at him, confused, like she was questioning his words. 

“I died. Alone. From blood loss. Under rubble.”

“Peter, I—“

“It’s okay. I’m here now, right? I’m alive...” he attempted to stand, but he fell with the new leg, and Aunt May caught him. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, sit down this instant.”

“Is the leg okay?”

Peter looked at Tony. “It’s cool.”

“‘Cool’.”

“Yeah. C... cool.” He murmured and sat back down as Aunt May had requested. He stared at his leg, and the panic was semi-over, and now he was in awe. “It’s really— woah, this is amazing! Is— is— did you make this?”

“I did.” Tony confirmed, looking very confused. 

“Woah. That’s awesome, Mr. Stark.” He sat back and wiped at his eyes now he was aware tear stains tainted his reddened cheeks. “Okay... I died and got a cool leg and arm from Mr. Stark himself. Who knew I needed to die to get your attention again, huh?”

Tony swallowed and paled, “I should probably go.”

Peter frowned and his lips parted, “but you just got here.”

“Meetings, kiddo. I got meetings. Glad to have you back,” he slowly fluffed his hair almost anxiously, and he ran out the room, head low. 

Peter frowned. “What’s with him?”

“He blames himself, you know? He was the one that found you. Brought you back himself.”

“He what?”

“Yeah... after you were stabilised he called me immediately. He sounded like he had been crying.”

Peter fell quiet. Maybe Iron-Man had feelings after all...


End file.
